


Candid Cortex

by Morteamore



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Exhibitionism, Glory Hole, Humor, Inspired by Firefly, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Science Fiction, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Freelance pilot Zachary Von Dyetrich makes a stop-over on the planet of New Melbourne, leading to an interesting encounter in a dive bar bathroom.





	Candid Cortex

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober prompts: Glory hole and exhibitionism

With as much effort as it had taken Zachary Von Dyetrich to drag himself through the tavern’s battered old doorway, he was having trouble mustering any of what was leftover to remove himself from the torn and battered barstool beneath him. Haggard and in need of a good brew or three, even whispers across the bar carrying rumors of what illicit acts were currently occurring in the bathroom couldn’t pry him up. On nights like these, even his libido was limp and useless as an incentive for action. His lips pressed to the pint glass in his hand, just the energy it took to tip the ale to his mouth was almost too much. Just so he didn’t have to lift his arm right away again, he drank it all down, chugging until it almost choked him, slamming the glass down hard on the bartop. He signaled to the bartender for another, the burly man lumbering over to fill the cup with the swill he was peddling.

“Haven’t seen your mug around here before,” the man remarked, eyeballing him. “You come in with the migrant transport looking for work with one of the fisheries? I can tell you now, they’re full up for the season. You’re better off shuffling onward to the next planet.”

“Next planet’s Paquin,” Zachary said, fixing the other man with a tired green eye as he scratched at the ginger colored soulpatch beneath his lip. His left eye didn’t tend to function all too well anymore. Not after he’d almost been brained to death in a ship crash a few months back. “I don’t step foot on Paquin. Not if I can help it. Besides, not really work I’m after.”

“I sense a personal story involving the locals there.”

“And you’d be right, ‘cept strangers ain’t privy to _that_ tale. Not even nosy bartenders looking to keep me liquored up so their coin keeps coming.” The redhead paused to drink down a mouthful of ale, fumbling in the pocket of his cargo pants with a gloved hand, the fingerholes frayed where he’d snipped them off. “Name’s VonDye. Von, if that’s a mouthful for ya.”

“Gunther. Hence, _Gunther’s Taproom_.” 

In a meaty fist, Gunther snatched up an ashtray from the other end of the bar, set it in front of Von as the man pushed a cigarette between his lips and lit up with an old, engraved zippo. The image was faint and scratched out, but it seemed to consist of the word _Cyclops Crew 2521_ and a single monstrous eye. 

“If not work, what be bringing you to New Melbourne?”

“Cheaper fuel and supplies than the Core. That transport shuttle parked out on ya landing strip? That’s my girl. M’looking to partner up with a reliable crew that’s got themselves a steady routine. Don’t care if it’s all legit runs or not. Freelancing just ain’t really been bringing me in much business. Alliance been putting more and more a squeeze on independent folk. Some day there won’t even be no more free places out there in the black to conduct ya private business. Gonna be needin’ to pay ya way into every bloody star system.”

“I’ve never had to try and make a living on anything but solid ground, but I know how tough the black is. I keep hearing about the Alliance’s restrictions more and more. Good thing we’re sitting on the rim and I can’t get arrested for saying if the Independents ever rose up again, I’d throw in with them in a heartbeat. Fuck the Union.” 

“Ain’t no Independents left to rise.” Dragging hard on his cigarette, Von exhaled a plume of smoke through his nostrils. “Lest ya wanna join up with them terrorists arseholes the Dust Devils.”

Gunther’s broad shoulders heaved in a shrug. “Beats sitting on your ass just complaining about things without trying to change nothing.”

Over the rim of his drink, Von locked gazes with Gunther, one eyebrow cocked. He took a slow sip, slurping at the liquid.

“Anyway, Von, you’ll probably be wanting to talk to the captain of the Sheng. He was floating around here somewhere before.” The bartender stole a glance around, his gaze falling on the exit for the restroom, lingering there a moment. “I’m sure if you wait around a bit more, he’ll pop his head in sometime again.”

“As long as you keep pouring them drinks and I stay a right lazy arse, I ain’t giving up my seat.”

As the night wore on, however, the statement became more difficult to uphold. Though he had no desire to get up and explore this unfamiliar territory, and his energy reserves were still lower than the sticky, liquid-tainted floor beneath his stool, the call of nature was overwhelming him. Eventually the discomfort was just too much, and Von had no choice but to slip from his seat and make a beeline for the bathroom, nearly stumbling over himself in the drunken process. It was a miracle he made it over the threshold, even more so that he was able to recognize that the urinals were in a vile state and a stall would have to suffice. There was only one that had a door still attached to it, and when he tried to push it open, the lock rattled, keeping it firmly in place. Unable to expend his anger on the minor annoyance, he dashed into the adjacent stall, fumbling past the hem of his shirt to get at his fly. Once his dick was free, it was no small sigh of relief that passed his lips, a potent torrent of air rushing out of him as he drained his bladder. 

Bracing one hand against the stall wall to steady himself, he was startled when his fingers passed right through what should have been solid stone. With a glance, he saw the circular hole cut crudely into the cement. Its center seemed to lead to nowhere, only inky nothingness seeping in, like some concentrated black hole. Von moved his palm, revealing tiny Mandarin hanzi that someone had inscribed in permanent ink.

Roughly translated, it read: _insert self here to receive your prize_

“Real cheeky,” Von grumbled out, shaking himself off.

He didn’t tuck himself back in his pants, though, twisting half around, his attention sweeping the room. There was nobody else in the bathroom with him, the flickering lights above mostly burned out, swallowing almost everything in shadows. The noise coming from beyond the door was faint at best, indicating most of the tavern’s activity was happening far away.

VonDye couldn’t say he was feeling particularly randy in those moments. Though, if he were honest with himself, he knew he was always more than a little low key horny when he drank this much. Which was, well, all the time, actually. Especially since his wealth of steady partners had dried up as soon as he’d gone freelance and began planet hopping. 

So he could chalk up the majority of his decision to unbridled curiosity, if he so wished to; even a little bit of a need to chase some elusive thrills. One more glance at the bathroom’s door, and he was grabbing some toilet paper, cleaning himself off as best he could. Trying not to think even a moment longer about it, lest he back down, he grabbed his dick and gingerly threaded it through the hole. 

Nothing happened. 

He chewed on the filter of the cigarette in his mouth. 

A moment passed, and then another. He could swear he heard shuffling coming from the other side of the stall, the rustle of possible clothing. But he couldn’t be sure, and he was starting to feel like a fool standing there with his dick stuck through some random hole in a run-down rimworld dive bar bathroom.

He was about to pull out and slink off, putting the memory of the moment out to pasture, when the bathroom door banged open and footsteps clomped against the floor tiles. Simultaneously, before he could jerk back and spare himself from embarrassment, something warm and wet and agile enveloped the head of his cock and shaft, dragging him along into such sudden ecstasy he couldn’t help but let out a yelping moan.

The footsteps stopped. Von felt his face flushing, fiery red creeping up his skin, burning him from the inside. He tried not to look at whoever had entered, and thankfully the poor lighting kept them mostly obscured. Their presence, however, was impossible to ignore.

“Get a load of this geezer,” came a rasping voice, laden with drink and slurring. “Quick, get out your PDA. Folk’ll pay good money for raunchy shit like this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Von could make out that there was not one, but two men standing just outside the open stall; skinny, young ruffians that looked like any average scumlord that hung around places like these, waiting for some poor sap to either rob or take advantage of. He could either continue to pretend they weren’t there or address them. Pulling away wasn’t an option, especially now that the orifice around him had begun to suckle in earnest, the tantalizing touch of a tongue running skillfully along the underside of his dick. Breathy wet sounds came through from the other side, Von’s eyes fluttering closed as he got lost in the momentary pleasure.

“He’s really going for it, ain’t he?” came the voice again. “You got that feed up yet?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re live,” came his companion’s reply. “Already got an audience, too. Cortex’s loving this spontaneous _lese feihua_.”

“Oi, _ta ma deh_!” Von finally balked, snapping out of his revelry. “Turn that shit off or I’ll stick my piece so far up your arses that when I pull the trigger your eyeballs will explode out your faces. You even old enough to be watchin’ this sort of thing? You kids don’t look like ya even got hair on your balls yet.”

“Doesn’t look like that’s a problem for you, huh, old man? Maybe you oughta try shaving before you go sticking your dick in strange holes next time.” 

A series of snickers filled the room. It was on Von’s tongue to throw them a biting comeback. But then the mouth was taking his length in its entirety, and he was panting for breath, bracing his hand against the stone divider. A series of grunts found their way between his partially parted lips, his balls pulling taut to his body, the old familiar burn roiling in his groin. Desperately, he fought the urge to pump his hips against the tidal wave of sensation, not wanting to give his companions any free show. It was futile to resist, however. His body thrust against the tight, slippery heat on the other side of the wall, swift and furious, chasing the building tension in his muscles. The noises in the air grew sloppier, more breathless.

“Yeah, give us the money shot!” one of his harassers shouted. 

Just as the tension grew too much, snapping like frayed twine, and the blood was pounding in Von’s temples, he stuck up his middle finger. 

Then he was cumming, cigarette clenched in his teeth so it didn’t tumble out and scald him, breathing loud and barely contained. Whoever the mystery person sucking him off was continued to work him with fervor, their cheeks hollowing against his throbbing flesh, drawing every last drop of cum from his balls that that they could muster. Their muffled moans carried over to him, quiet but pointed. 

And then they were drawing off him, cool air buffeting his slick, heated cock as it was deprived of the velveteen warmth it had been swathed in.

By the time Von had regained his composure, fixed his pants up, and was washing his hands, the two other men had vanished, fleeing before he could even bring himself to focus on his environment again. It probably would’ve been smart to give chase, even if they’d had a head start. But whatever they had captured was probably being broadcast far and wide across the Cortex already, and he simply couldn’t bring himself to care if he ended up as someone’s jerk-off material or the butt of their dumbass joke. Wouldn’t be the first time for either. 

Gunther nodded at him as he took up his place at the bar once more, pouring him a fresh glass of ale. Parched and having lost some of his earlier buzz, he drank down a few mouthfuls, noticing the bartender’s gaze was fixated on something across the room as he set his cup back on the bartop. The man rolled his eyes, then, waving his hand to signal for the person’s attention.

“Here’s the captain of the Sheng now,” he told Von. As a tall, thin man with a day’s worth of stubble, long auburn hair tied in a ponytail, and an eye patch secured over one eye took a seat nearby, Gunther added, “Glad to see you’re still out and about, Johnny boy. This here is VonDye. Says he got himself his own private shuttle. I gave him the hint that you might be willing to strike up a business deal.”

Turning to face him, Von was suddenly moved to shock by the sight before him. Not because the captain was an eyesore or anything. Nothing like that. But because the visage before him was flushed and wrecked, a stray strand of bang falling over his one eye, supple lips undoubtedly swollen and still glistening with saliva and other fluids. There was even a thin white smear at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, VonDye,” the man said, voice smooth and supple with just the faintest hint of hoarseness. “I’m Johnathan Darius, captain and EXO of the Firefly class ship known as the Sheng.”

With the faintest hint of a grin, Johnathan held out his hand to shake. Instead of taking the offered palm, however, Von pointed to his own mouth.

“You got a little something,” he said, trying to keep his voice emotionless. “Right around there.”

The captain narrowed his eyes as Von spoke, lips pursing, brow furrowing. He looked on the verge of saying something, but then shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Ah, sorry,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping him. Von knew that sound all too well now, his eyebrows shooting straight for his hairline. “It’s been sort of a wild night so far. But by my standards, kind of still early, so who knows how much wilder it might get. Anyway, come. Let’s talk some business.”

Yanking the cigarette from his mouth, Von plunged it into the nearby ashtray, snubbing it out. 

“Funny,” he remarked, his gaze steady on the other man. “I’m pretty sure we already did that.”


End file.
